Glaciers in Camelot
by ausername
Summary: Hermione comes to Hogwarts to teach, and discovers that Severus Snape is suffering from his involvement in the war. She responds to her "strengthen the weak, help the suffering" impulses and in the process, discovers more than she set out to find. SSHG
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: It's all JKR's, except:

-The first line, which was inspired by a line from The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, by Ann Brashares, and

-The summary description: "strengthen the weak, help the suffering," which comes from a Unitarian Universalist benediction.

I wrote this story in about 3 months (and began posting it only after it was complete). The original title was "Melting."

Just a bit of backstory: it's approximately 4 years after the war; Hermione is 21. Deathly Hallows happened just as JKR wrote it, except Snape managed to stay alive long enough for the healers to find him, and he was saved before the poison and blood loss killed him. Ho hum. He continued teaching DADA after the war, though resigned his duties as headmaster. Hermione completed her 7th year at Hogwarts as well as 3 more years at a wizarding University, where she earned her Mastery in Charms.

Enjoy!

* * *

Dumbledore was dead and Harry was at the ministry and Ron was in Italy and Ginny had dragon pox and George had bought a house and Percy had married and Teddy had a new sweater and Hermione was sitting in her closet.

Her new closet. In her new room, in which she had recently been taking up a frantic dance to unpack. Wand raised, she cleanly sent objects flying onto her shelves, into her drawers, into her closet, and under her bed. She sent her suitcases to the top shelf in the wardrobe and the trunk to the bottom of her bed, then, stepping back to admire her work, tripped over a soon-to-be flustered Crookshanks and ended up, as she was now, sitting in her closet.

The closet wasn't that bad, nor was the room. Both were spacious, made of cold grey stone and dark wood. The windows of the room faced the part of the Forbidden Forest that lay behind Hogwarts, just beyond which Hermione could see the silhouettes of the hills that characterized the region. The bed was a four-poster, just like she had had during her student days.

Looking up, she heard a soft hiss and saw her cat scowling at her.

"Sorry, Crookshanks. It was an accident…" She lifted herself up from her position on top of a few pairs of shoes and some boxes, then turned around to pull on her robes.

* * *

One meeting with the headmaster, two written lesson plans and a half-hour nap later, Hermione found herself in the Great Hall, flanked by Professors Sprout and Sinistra, listening to Headmistress Albeck's start-of-term speech.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. I'm happy to see so many lovely new faces among those that I know so well. As I know your stomachs have been rumbling since this morning, I'll keep my announcements brief.

First, the Forbidden Forest is off limits to any student, regardless of year.

Secondly, I have the pleasure of announcing that Head Boy and Girl for this year are Michael Seldan and Catherine Perera.

Thirdly, I would like to extend a warm welcome to two new teachers who will be joining us this year: Professor of Charms, Ms. Hermione Granger, and Professor Sean Armstrong, who will be teaching Muggle Studies. Please treat these new teachers with as much respect as you do your other professors.

Now, fill up those bellies and get some rest! Classes begin tomorrow."

The Headmistress resumed her seat at the center of the high table, and the golden plates filled with food, encouraging "oohs" from the first years.

Between bites of roast pheasant and kidney pie, Hermione observed her tablemates. Portly Professor Stout conversed amiably with Professor Vector, Hermione's former Arithmancy professor. Next to Vector sat Hagrid, ruddy cheeks glowing as he laughed at one the headmistress's jokes. To her surprise, Hermione noticed Horace Slughorn, plump as ever, tucking in avidly. She supposed he enjoyed retelling his version of the final battle to his students too much to give up his teaching post to a life of self-praising retirement.

At the end of the line sat Professor Severus Snape, tormenter of first years and spy extraordinaire. Noting his glum, expressionless face and pale, pale skin, Hermione wondered how he had managed to come back to teaching. She expected the war would have worn him down as water does sandstone. As Hermione observed him, Snape turned and glared at her, making her insides feel like ice. She sighed, wondering. Was there a hint of pity in that sigh?

* * *

A/N: Mrs. Albeck was my stern yet wonderful 12th grade French teacher; I thought she would be a good headmistress.

I would love to hear your constructive criticism!


	2. Chapter 2

That Friday found her outside the door of the Burrow, carrying a bag of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum and ready to let off some steam from her first overwhelming week of classes. When the door opened she had barely an instant to see Ron's look of suprised delight before she was swept into a hug and thoroughly kissed.

"Hello," she said when he had set her down and accepted her present, "mind if I come visit for the weekend?"

Ron responded with a smile and led her into the house.

"Mum's just setting up dinner," he said, taking her hand and leading her into the cramped yet cozy dining room. "Tonight it'll just be us and dad, 'cause everyone else is working. But tomorrow I think Harry and Ginny are coming, and George…"

His voice faded as he looked over at her one more time "… I missed you, you know?"

She laughed, squeezing his hand.

* * *

The weekend passed in a blink of an eye, and Monday morning Hermione sat at the head table, toying with her scrambled eggs and thinking of Ron. It had been lovely spending time alone with him, and then along with Harry and Ginny, discussing their jobs, taking walks, and reminiscing about their time at Hogwarts. Ron had expressed that he didn't mind that Hermione was working at Hogwarts, "as long as you come visit as often as possible." It turned out that his wish was not hard to fulfill, as she missed him almost every day, wrote letters, and got into the habit of practically running out the gates on Fridays to apparate as soon as classes were over.

Soon she had adapted to her life at Hogwarts. It had taken some time to get used to not being a student (she almost missed the rule-breaking) but much of her schedule was similar to during her student days. She ate in the great hall, attended classes, then graded papers or made lesson plans in her quaint rooms near the kitchen. She had requested those quarters not out of gluttony, but because of a lingering desire to check up on the house elves from time to time.

One Wednesday afternoon when her eyes were blurred from reading third-year Slytherin Cecil Bystrom's incomprehensible handwriting, she headed for the kitchens, deciding that a walk and some pleasant conversation would do her good.

"Hello, Miss Granger!" the house elves chorused as she entered. "Would Miss Granger desire anything to eat?" asked an elf she had come to know as Caillou.

"No, no thank you, Caillou." She looked around, noting that apart from Caillou, most of the elves had gone back to working diligently on that day's supper. As she started strolling around the vast kitchens, a disturbance near the fireplace caught her eye. A group of worried-looking elves huddled around another elf whose skin appeared to be shockingly solid.

Hermione hurried over, settling her hands on the elf's granite-like shoulders.

"What happened?" she inquired, worried.

A small female house-elf squeaked a timid answer. "Brownie are go to tend to Master Snape's rooms," she said, "And she are come back like this. We are not know what are happen!" The elf settled her eyes onto the statue of Brownie.

"Oh dear, oh dear," said Hermione. She knew that Brownie's petrification was not the result of a _petrificus _charm, as that did not make the subject appear polished. Remembering the female elf's recounting of how she had become this way, she asked, "Is Professor Snape all right?"

"We do not know, we do not know," replied the elf, wringing her hands.

"Would you let me take Brownie back to my rooms so I can try to heal her?" asked Hermione, thinking that whatever had petrified the elf was not house-elf magic.

"Yes, yes Miss Granger! Miss Granger are so clever, we know she will succeed!" The worried group of elves waved their goodbyes as Hermione picked up the petrified elf and swiftly took her to her rooms, laying her down on the bed and looking her over. She then left to find Professor Snape, practically racing down to rap on his door.

"Now is not the time!" was the reply she received upon knocking on the door of his quarters.

Reluctantly, she knocked again. "I'm sorry, professor, it's just--just--there's a petrified house elf--"

"Now is not the time," he replied in the same cold drawl.

Frightened as she was of her former Potions Professor, Hermione cracked open the door and stuck her head in. "I'm sorry, it's--" she stopped herself as her eyes fell on the room. The stone floor had a polished sheen to it, as well as half of the desk, part of the carpet, and straight-backed chair in which sat a miffed Professor Snape. Strangest was the appearance of the petrified papers littering the floor, their corners folding up as if they had been carved from marble.

"What part of 'not now' do you not understand?" he fairly spit at her, bounding up from his chair. Without waiting for her to answer, he continued, "I did not give you permission to come here."

Taken aback, Hermione kept a firm grip on the side of the door. Despite the chaos in the room, she noticed that Snape himself looked tired, and much less menacing than she remembered. Maybe the potion had petrified some of his skin, too?

"I wished to ask you, Sir, if you knew how to counteract the petrification of the house elf," Hermione managed to say, "…. I have never seen such a thorough petrification, but since the other elves said Brownie had been cleaning your quarters, I thought you might know…" she looked again at the petrified mess on the floor.

"It's the elf's own fault for distracting me while I was working on a complex petrification potion," he replied. "A simple softening charm will work to bring it back. Suffice it to say that should be simple enough for you, Miss Granger?" he added, a hint of smugness in his voice. Snape turned and, with what looked like a hint of resignation, settled himself back in the armchair.

"Yes… yes sir," Hermione replied timidly. She still hadn't stepped into the room. "Sir…. Aren't you going to clean--"

"Of course. Do not even attempt to offer me help. Go."

Hermione gave a last glance at the figure slumped in the chair, then fairly ran back to her chambers. A quick flick of her wand paired with the spell _mollio_ brought the house elf back from her state of petrification, and Hermione was overwhelmed with curt bows and enthusiastic "thank yous" from the elf.

"Do you feel alright?" she asked Brownie. "Everything working?"

"Yes Miss Granger! Thank you Miss Granger!" the house elf bowed again. "How can Brownie repay Miss Granger for her kindness?"

Hermione smiled at the elf's eagerness and shook her head. "Thank you, Brownie, but I'm sure you have enough work set up for you tending to Master Snape's quarters."

Remembering the messy rooms and the equally tired-looking occupant she had just left, an idea struck her. "Actually, Brownie, could you keep an eye on Professor Snape? Tell me what it looks like he's feeling?" She felt intrusive, but, truth be told, the professor's worn appearance worried her.

The elf squeaked a quick "Yes!" and disapparated.

* * *

A/N: Caillou (kai-OO) means "pebble," in French, and is also the name of an adorable character on a PBS kids' show.

Brownies are elves who come in the night and do housework. Fun fact: that's where the Brownie Girl Scouts got their name.

The spell _mollio _means "to soften" in Latin. If the online dictionary I found is right :)


	3. Chapter 3

The next week as she was heading back to her rooms for a night of test marking, Hermione was stopped by a tap on her shoulder from Myriam Agans, a smart yet clumsy fourth-year Ravenclaw.

"Excuse me, Professor?" she asked when Hermione turned to face her.

"Yes, Myriam?"

"Do you know where I can find Professor Snape? I was supposed to have detention with him tonight at seven in the potions classroom, but he's not there…." Judging from the girl's worried appearance, Hermione guessed she was scared of being reprimanded for missing her detention.

_Snape skipping out on the opportunity to reprimand a Ravenclaw, _thought Hermione, _well, that's certainly unusual. _Looking down the hallway towards Snape's office, she cast a _patronus _charm, thinking of her time at the Burrow the weekend before. After having given the silver otter the message she wished to send to Snape, she flicked her wand and sent the patronus down the corridor and through the wall.

Myriam looked at her in admiration. "That was brilliant, professor! When do we learn to cast patronuses?"

Hermione smiled, thinking about the D.A. Meetings in which she had learnt to cast a patronus. "Fifth year, I think," she said, not exactly sure of the answer. "I learned it on my own, having Umbridge as a prof--"

She was cut off by the slamming of a door and the approach of Professor Snape.

"Do you honestly find it necessary to send a Patronus to alert me of something like this?" he snarled, approaching them. Myriam backed up a few steps.

"Why not?" Hermione replied. Before he could answer, she added, "Anyway, my patronus is not the issue right now. It appears Myriam was to have a detention with you tonight, Professor?" She was slightly suprised by her nerve.

Without arguing further, Snape replied, "If you would be so _kind_, Professor, to supervise Miss Agans' detention for me, I would be much obliged." The sarcasm in the statement was not hard to miss. He turned on his heel and walked back down the hallway. Hermione couldn't help noticing that his stride was slower than she remembered.

"What did he give you detention for, anyway?" she asked.

"I…. I knocked over a cauldron full of sleeping potion during class and made Liam Cooper fall asleep."

"Oh, honestly!" replied Hermione. "That's no reason for a detention!" She motioned for the girl to go.

"Thank you, Professor!" said Myriam, who then hastily managed to walk into the nearest doorframe as she looked back at Hermione appreciatively.

* * *

"Brownie, would you check on Professor Snape please?" Hermione requested once she had arrived back in her rooms and called the elf. "And do be careful, I don't think he's in a very good mood…" she bit her lip, watching the elf bow quickly and then disapparate.

Brownie was back less than a minute later, causing Hermione jump up from her seat.

"Master Snape, if you please, Miss Granger, is asleep on his bed."

"Asleep?"

"Yes, Miss Granger, but he are still wearing his daytime robes."

"Oh. Well, thank you, Brownie." She looked down at the elf and caught a inquiring look. Sitting back down again, Hermione asked, "You must be wondering why I've sent to you look on Professor Snape, aren't you?"

"Oh yes!" replied the elf, who then looked timid, "Brownie would never inquire, but Brownie are curious, yes."

Hermione didn't want the elf to think she was spying on Snape, _but I sort of am_, she thought. "Professor Snape has looked ill and sad recently, and I want to know if he's ok."

"Like when Winky was not feeling good, and Brownie looked after Winky, will Miss Granger watch Master Snape?"

"Yes, I suppose so." She looked at the clock, noting it was only ten to eight. "Thanks Brownie, you can go back to the kitchens." As the house-elf disapparated, Hermione rested her head in her hands and started thinking of pity. Pity was such an easy feeling to have, though certainly not one that would be well received by one Professor Snape. Nevertheless, it was difficult to think of anyone else who deserved more pity. Snape had endured torture, unrequited love, death, being an outcast, and even having to murder Albus Dumbledore, the man he regarded so highly. Hermione would be surprised if everything he had endured failed to force him into depression. Poor professor.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you ever so much for the lovely reviews! I couldn't wait to post these next chapters, so here they are, just for you.

* * *

In the months before Christmas break, Hermione attempted to reach out to Snape. She would try to engage him in conversation during meals, usually receiving a blunt response. She would nod and greet him when they passed in the hallways, and she got into the habit of requesting to borrow some of his books. Soon she was recommending some of her own books to him.

When she managed to get a surprisingly detailed response out of him during lunch one day, Hermione ventured to think that her "project" may have been on the path to succeeding. Snape was still the same harsh, unsociable man she had known as a student, but he seemed to be lightening up a bit.

Snowfall came late that year, so Hermione was surprised to find herself so soon at the apparating point outside of Hogwarts with two bags and a shivering Crookshanks. She was to spend the first part of the holidays with her parents, then head to the Burrow on Christmas day. She apparated to Hogsmeade, deciding not to brave the walk in the snow, and stopped by Honeyduke's to buy some last-minute Christmas presents for the Weasley's, though she was pretty sure they wouldn't need many more sweets.

As she exited the shop, drawing her scarf tighter around her face to keep sheltered from the wind, she noticed dark robes sweeping from a store nearby. Curious as to how the subject of her "project" would be spending the holidays, she trudged up behind him.

"Good day, Professor." He nodded in return. "Will you be spending the holidays at Hogwarts?" She was unsure of exactly how to talk to him.

"Hogwarts is not my only home, if you did not realise," he replied. "I will be going back to my own house." He paused. "Is there anything you wished to ask of me?" he said coldly.

"Oh," Hermione answered, slightly frightened by his tone of voice. "No! I just wanted to wish you a Happy Christmas, sir." She felt like a student.

"I suppose you'll be going home?" he asked.

"Yes. Well, home and then to the Weasley's…." Hermione blushed, knowing Snape disapproved of anyone remotely connected to the name Weasley.

"Happy Christmas, then, Professor Granger." He turned and apparated on the spot, leaving Hermione standing in the snow, wearing a slight grin. A cold "Happy Christmas" could hardly be considered kind from anyone--except Professor Snape.

* * *

"Hermione, are you sure you're feeling alright?" Ron asked on Christmas day as they sat, sipping cocoa in his living room. "You're looking awfully… distracted."

"Hm?" Hermione looked over at him. "Oh, no! No, I'm fine. Just very happy to be here." She leaned towards him, making him take his arm from behind her back and drape it around her shoulders.

Truthfully, her mind was whirring with preoccupation about a certain cold professor, who she couldn't help but assume was not having a Happy Christmas as she had wished him. She knew it was silly to care when she should have been focusing on the blissful times she was having, but the thought of him spending Christmas alone and lonely wouldn't leave her mind.

"Actually," she said, turning to Ron, "I forgot to get something from my parents' house before I left. Mind if I pop over there for a minute?" It was a lie, but a plausible one.

"Sure, love." Ron gave her a peck on the cheek as she stood up and walked outside the house. It was just then that she realised she did not know where Professor Snape lived, and she laughed at her stupidity. She assumed he would have anti-tracking spells on whatever type of building he lived in; being a spy would have forced him to be cautious. Suddenly, an idea hit her.

Running back inside the living room, she called "Ron? Could I use the putter-outer?"

"Of course, Hermione, why do you--"

"I'll tell you later." She summoned the little silver device from his rooms and ran back out the door, feeling oddly nervous. Concentrating on Snape, she clicked open the putter-outer.

On the first try, she merely managed to extinguish the porchlight. _Oops, _she thought, clicking the lighter again and sending the ball of the light back. The next time she pressed her finger down, though, a bright orb appeared in front of her. Hermione walked up to it, thinking constantly of Snape as she pressed her eyes closed.

When she could see again, she found herself outside of an eroding wooden door at the end of a dreary-looking street. "Fits," she muttered to herself. Before letting her nerves take control of her, she gave two sharp raps on the door.

It was just as the door opened that she realized she had no good excuse to give the Professor as to why she was standing outside his door, unexpected, on Christmas day. She blushed when she saw what looked like disgust on Snape's face.

"Miss Granger," he acknowledged.

"Professor!" she squeaked back, giving him a small smile. "Happy Christmas!"

"The same to you. May I inquire as to the reason for your visit?"

Hermione wrung her hands, trying to appear confident. "I, uh, you see… just came to see if you were enjoying your holidays?" It was, unfortunately, a question.

"As much as usual," he replied, his expression unchanging.

"Can I come in?" She asked, not waiting for his response, sure it would be "no."

He glared at her as she passed through the doorway. Dealing with a person as guarded as Snape, she had to be pushy sometimes.

"I brought you a present sir," she said, observing the room while simultaneously conjuring a pot of Poinsettias behind her back. She offered him the plant, but seeing as he made no move to take it, chose to place it on a worn coffee table in the middle of the room.

His house at Spinner's End was not much different from his quarters at Hogwarts, for what she could see. For such a strict personnage, he really was quite messy. Books were haphazardly arranged on the shelves, the table, and the floor, and papers blew around in the draft she had created when she opened the door.

Hermione looked up to see Snape's cold eyes on her again.

"Surely you don't wish to be missing your own festivities to come revel in all the joy you find here?"

Hermione looked away from him as she responded, "Well, no... I've been at the Weasley's. Just wanted to see how you were enjoying your holidays, that's all."

There. She had admitted it. She was checking on him.

"You believe my disposition to be your affair?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were happy." Hermione blurted out.

Oh. Blast. Before she could see his reaction, she muttered a quick "Well, see you back at Hogwarts, then!" and was out the door. Merlin, why couldn't she have been a little more careful with her choice of words!

She was about to apparate back to the Burrow when her curiosity got the better of her, and she ventured a look through the windows framing the door, back into Snape's house.

The professor had sat down in front of his empty fireplace. Head bowed, unmoving, he sat gazing intently at her bright pointsettia.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione's encounter with Professor Snape on Christmas only made her worry for the man increase. Trying to care for him was like trying to chip away flakes of ice to get to the center of a glacier. When she offered him help, he pushed it away. He was like a barrier to kindness, and this only made her want to help him more.

When she arrived back at Hogwarts, she decided should couldn't just chip away at the glacier. She had to melt it.

* * *

9 January

_Professor-_

_My birthday present to you is a request, one I believe you will not enjoy nor understand. You may reprimand me as you wish tomorrow._

_Professor, on your birthday, please cry. Cry for what you want, just honor my request. You may question me as to the nature of this present later._

_-H_

Snape put down the letter, a look of disgust on his face. Why should Granger have a say in how he celebrated his birthday? How did she even know it was his birthday? He had almost forgotten himself.

His birthdays now differed very slightly, if at all, from his birthdays as a child. Few remembered him, and those who did usually refrained from speaking to him. Occasionally Dumbledore had given him a brightly-wrapped book or Minerva an insignificant card, but as they were gone, he had received no birthday greetings for years. It was certainly better that way.

Snape threw the note into the fire, then sat at his desk, preparing to read over some formulas he had created earlier that day. He pictured birthday that had come before, all resulting in the same outcome as this one.

Except one.

He thought back to his third year at Hogwarts. It had been snowing hard that day, and he wanted to skip dinner and go straight to bed. Lily Evans had other plans. When he walked into the dining hall to speak to Professor Dumbledore about an upcoming test, he was greeted instead by a hug and an enthusiastic "close your eyes and follow me!"

Lily guided him to a place at the Slytherin table, then bade him open his eyes. In front of where he stood was a chocolate cake with the words "Happy Birthday Sev!" written in shimmering silver frosting. Snape remembered sitting down with Lily and devouring the cake in what seemed like two minutes then receiving a full dose of enthusiasm and congratulations. He went to bed that night with a smile, feeling very unlike himself.

When a droplet of water fell onto his notes, Snape awoke from his reverie, momentarily wondering where he was. When another droplet fell, he laid his head in his hands. The ink smudged on his notes, but he didn't notice. He didn't notice when the clock stroke twelve, one, two in the morning. He didn't remember throwing himself onto the hearthrug, not noticing the furniture he overturned as he fell. His mind knew only one thought:

"Lily…."

When Professor Snape did not show up to breakfast the next morning, Hermione wondered. After she was called on to subsitute the fourth-year Slytheryn defense against the dark arts class, she couldn't help but think that maybe, somehow, her birthday present had helped him.

* * *

10 January

_Professor--_

_I would like to speak with you._

-H

Snape read her note, grimacing. He did not want to face her. She was invading his life without his permission, all because she knew him so well. He felt he could not know himself as well as she knew him.

In spite of his better judgement, he found himself outside her rooms near the kitchens. Two knocks, and the door was open.

"Oh good! Come in, professor." She opened the door so he could enter her meticulously organized chambers.

"You wished to speak with me?"

"Actually, I wanted, rather, for you to speak to me." She looked up at him from her seat behind her desk. "Have you anything to say to me?"

Surprised at how forward she had been, he looked around the room.

"No."

"No?"

"What would you want me to say?" he said coldly.

"I will leave that up to you to figure out." She brought her gaze down to her notes, signaling the end of the conversation. "Good evening, professor."

Looking up as the door closed behind him, Hermione let out a sigh. Perhaps her birthday present hadn't been so effective.

* * *

A/N: I'm not sure if this last scene makes sense to the reader; tell me what you think.

8/18/09 edit: The "birthday present" is odd, yes. But I like to dabble in the psychology of letting go, and I needed Hermione to actively help him.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thanks again for the wonderful reviews! They make me excited to post more.

Yeah, in the last scene, Hermione was asking him if he wanted to thank her. I'm glad my reviewers got it. :)

Ps. This coming scene was the first one I wrote (though it has changed a lot). Writing out of order is fun.

* * *

Severus Snape sat behind his desk, head in hand, and picked up a small piece of parchment with the note:

_Professor—_

_Please return __Wizarding Europe in the Middle Ages__, as I have a few students who expressed interest in reading it. I hope you enjoyed it._

—_H_

In truth, he had never read the book. Wizarding Europe in the Middle Ages, as fascinating as it seems, had been sitting in his bedroom, under a pile of dirty socks and bits of crumpled parchment. The state of most of his other possessions was similar.

Without daring to look around his room, he lay on the couch in front of the dark fireplace and fell asleep. He didn't plan on making it to breakfast.

* * *

"...and then Master Snape are fall asleep on his couch, and I are come to tell Miss Granger," Brownie the house elf told Hermione one afternoon.

"Oh dear…." Hermione mumured, looking around the room. Her thoughts were drawn back to the house elf standing on her desk. "Would you continue to keep an eye on him, please, Brownie?" she inquired. "He's falling apart!"

"Yes, miss, certainly, miss!"

"Thank you." Hermione sighed, stood up and went to find a book she needed. When she returned, Brownie was rooted in the same spot on her desk.

"Brownie, you know I don't need to dismiss you for you to leave; you're free, remember?"

The house elf turned her gaze to Hermione. "Yeh--yes miss, Brownie just wished--just wished to say something." She looked over at Hermione, who stood in the doorway. "Brownie see Master Snape look often at a picture, yes. A picture of a girl with red hair, who smiles at him."

"Oh, Lily. Oh Merlin!" Hermione blurted out. "The poor man can't stop dwelling on the past."

"Poor, poor man," said Brownie, nodding.

* * *

That night Hermione turned out the light at eleven, not feeling the least bit tired. She felt restless, she felt worried, she felt anxious, and none of it had to do with herself. After just five minutes of tossing and turning, she got out of bed and slipped on her robes. _I'm going mental_, she thought as she pattered down the staircase to the dungeons.

She didn't knock on his door, not wanting to wake him, but instead spent a good half hour fighting her way through his wards. She found him as Brownie had described, sprawled out on his sofa, fast asleep. His deeply lined face was relaxed, but barely, and he appeared tense even while sleeping.

Hermione pulled up a wooden chair next to the sofa and sat, watching her former Professor and feeling the most intense pity she had ever experienced in her life. Snape stirred; the movement of her chair must have woken him. He did not open his eyes, but let out a soft groan, followed by the word Hermione feared to hear from his lips:

"Lily…."

As the first sob wracked his body, Hermione knelt down next to him, extremely concerned. Still unaware of her presence, he turned his face away, the tears continuing to fall.

Hesitantly, trembling with fright, Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder. A sharp intake of breath, and he turned to face her.

"Lily?" his eyes were blurred by his tears, and Hermione realized he did not know who she was.

"No."

Another sob, and his face fell into the pillow. Hermione's hand continued its gentle course up and down his back, and she too felt tears welling up in her eyes.

"No, Professor. Lily is gone; you have to let her go!" He was already in histerics and Hermione felt herself approaching that point as well. Her compassion and pity for her former professor were overcoming her.

Summing up courage from that compassion, Hermione continued, "Professor, if you keep holding on to Lily you will never enjoy the life you have."

A muffled sound came from the pillows.

Then, feeling braver than she had during the final battle, Hermione ventured, "You do not love her. You are too hurt to be capable of love. You are obsessed because you do not know what else to hold on to." A short pause, and then, softly, "I…. I pity you, Professor." Hermione looked down at her hand, resting just below his shoulder blade. She couldn't believe herself, and yet she felt immense pride in what she had done.

"Leave!" came his voice from the pillow.

"No," she said firmly, "you need help, and I want to help you." She paused again, "You deserve it."

"No!" he said, and his hiccoughing sobs slowed, replaced by slow, uneven breathing.

"I may be stubborn, but I'm here for you, Professor," Hermione whispered, then settled back in her chair. She didn't know exactly what propelled her, but she knew she would stay with him until the end of time if he needed her there.

Soon his breathing slowed and his breaths came in an even rhythm, signaling that he had once again fallen into the comforting realms of sleep. Nevertheless, Hermione's hand continued its course up and down his back. She wouldn't admit it, but sitting here with him comforted her, too.

* * *

A/N: Snape's mental health has gone way down hill. Major depression, remorse, nostalgia, and hatred all in one. Are his reactions too OOC? Just right? Tell me what you think! :-D


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Many thanks to my reviewers!

The Snape I created in this story is quite messed-up mentally. Though he can be OOC at times, I decided to be consistent with my character rather than try to change him to fit canon.

Also, I think I have a title (Glaciers in Camelot). Didn't think it would be this hard to think of one! The Camelot reference comes later. "Melting" just seemed too generic and slightly cheesy.

* * *

That weekend's visit to the Burrow was a relief to Hermione. With classes and her "project" at Hogwarts, she was overwhelmed, and it was nice to take a rest at the Burrow. She refereed chess games between Ron and Harry ("Hermione, will you ever change?") chatted with Ginny by the fire and snuggled on the couch with Ron on Sunday morning, watching the slight snowfall through the frosted window.

In spite of distancing herself from him, Hermione couldn't keep her mind off Snape. The way he had acted like nothing in his life mattered, the way he thought she was Lily…. Hermione was scared for him.

"Ron," she said as they sat snuggled up under a blanket in his sitting room, "I have to go back to Hogwarts."

"Already?" he asked sadly.

"Yeah. I've got-- papers to grade," Hermione responded. _Merlin, I need to work on my white lies! _She thought.

"You can't bring them here?" Ron said, wrapping his arms around her.

"I'm sorry, Ron, it's just… I can concentrate better there."

"Alright. Are you coming next weekend?"

"What do you think?" Hermione hid her hesitation with a giggle. She was suddenly hit with uncertainty. Would Snape be well enough for her to come back next weekend?

"Bye." They exchanged a quick kiss, then Hermione was out the door.

* * *

When she arrived in the Great Hall for lunch, Hermione knew something was amiss. The Headmistress and half the teaching staff were not at their places at the head table, and those professors present were whispering among themselves anxiously. Fearing the worst, Hermione backtracked to her rooms, calling breathlessly for Brownie when she arrived.

"Miss Granger, Brownie can not find him!"

"Can't find who?" Hermione asked, knowing fully well who "he" was.

"Master Snape!"

"Oh no." Hermione immediately regretted her lazy weekend. He needed her!

She made to rush out the door, then realized that she had no idea of Snape's whereabouts.

He probably wouldn't have gone home, and she doubted his absence was due to a visit to the Three Broomsticks.

"Brownie, how long has he been gone?"

"Since Friday afternoon, Miss Granger."

Hermione put her head in her hands. "Oh dear, oh dear!" she muttered.

Glancing at a picture of herself with Harry and Ron, she suddenly knew two things: where Snape was, and that he was most likely very cold.

* * *

Godric's Hollow had not changed much since her last visit there with Harry in their search for Bathilda Bagshot. In fact, besides the lack of Christmas decorations, for it was already February, the village looked much the same. Hermione rushed through the main square and under the wrought-iron gates into the snow-filled churchyard. This time, the cemetery felt peaceful. The graves were dusted with snow, wreaths and flowers decked with icicles and frost. Retracing the steps she had taken with Harry, Hermione wandered through the grave stones, passing Ignotious Peverell's burial site and coming upon that of Lily and James Potter.

There on the ground in front of Lily's grave the snow was patted down, as if someone had lain there.

"Oh no, oh no…." Hermione mumbled. "Where are you?" She ran forward to the grave and fell to her knees, looking for anything that could point her to her professor.

It was then that she noticed the footprints leading around to the back of the grave. There, carved in the dark stone, were two words:

_Goodbye, Lily._

Hermione didn't know for how long she sat there in the snow, letting the tears fall.

She had failed for the first time in her life.

She knew she couldn't go back to Hogwarts, and rushing into Ron's arms wouldn't help her, either. She was standing up, brushing the tears from her eyes and the snow from her clothes when she saw something silver approaching her. As it galloped toward her, she squinted to find the antlers that would identify it as Harry's patronus.

Hermione gasped. Does do not have antlers. The majestic silver animal slowed to a walk as it approached her, then spoke with the voice of Severus Snape, slow and firm:

"Thank you, Hermione."

And as Hermione broke down in tears, the doe dissolved into a silver mist, and was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I would never kill off Snape. I love him too much! Plus, dead people don't send patronuses; sorry if that last part was unclear, but I kind of intended for it to be.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, whichever way you see it), he's still going to be there for another 6 chapters and an epilogue. :-D

* * *

Breathing heavily and still crying, Hermione threw herself onto her four-poster bed in her rooms at Hogwarts, and, once she had calmed down enough, gave a deep sigh of relief. Snape's note to Lily was anything but a suicide note: it was a note of rejoining the living. He was alive, and more, he was getting well.

Hermione wanted to celebrate her "victory," but at the moment she was physically and emotionally exhausted. She had time only to send her silver otter down to the dungeons with the message "You're welcome, Professor," before she drifted into the realms of dreamless sleep.

The next morning at breakfast, Hermione toyed with her scrambled eggs and thought of Professor Snape. The subject of her thoughts sat down beside her, murmuring a soft "Good morning, Professor," before pouring himself some tea and buttering his toast.

Hermione looked up, smiling. "Good morning!" She didn't manage more words, but just smiled at him. As she went to go back to her eggs, a thought struck her.

"Professor, how long were you there for?"

"How long was I where, Miss Granger?"

Hermione looked down and whispered, "At her grave."

He paused, surprised, then looked over at her. "As long as it took for me to follow your orders," he replied, granting her a rare half-smile. "And to get frostbite on my toes."

Hermione knew Madame Pomfrey could heal frostbite in half and hour, so she refrained from asking about her professor's toes, instead looked up at him and said quietly, "That… that must have been difficult for you."

"The second message was more difficult than the first," he replied, then left the table, leaving Hermione to look after him as he walked away, open-mouthed in surprise.

* * *

_Professor Granger--_

_If you are free, please come to my office tonight at eight. I a book I believe would interest you._

When Hermione read his note, she was quite pleasantly surprised.

"I think he's melted!" she said to no one in particular. "This is unprecedented." She blushed, unable to tell if she was overreacting to the whole situation.

Yes, she had time, but even if she hadn't she would make some. What was once a little challenge had become the focus of her work at Hogwarts. Of course, she kept teaching a top priority, but caring for Professor Snape was much more…. intriguing.

So she was, once again, outside his office door that evening.

"Good evening, Professor!" she practically shouted, forgetting that her former professor looked down on uncalled for outbursts of emotion.

"Good evening," he said sullenly, letting her in_._

His office was still full of piles of papers and books, though he had _mollioed_ the petrified parts. A small fire crackled in the hearth, contributing to the low light given out by the candles spread around the room.

"Please excuse the disorder," he said simply, "I'm cleaning."

"Oh! That's ok!" Hermione burst out, then covered her smile with her hand. She wasn't used to a Snape who apologized.

Snape wound through the piles of books, looking them over and picking up a few. After having scoured the room, he came back to where Hermione still stood, eyeing the room.

"I thought you'd enjoy this one," he said, handing her a worn, leather-bound volume.

_Did he really just say "enjoy?" _

"'The Founding of Hogwarts.' It's somewhat like a prequel to 'Hogwarts, a History.'"

"Ooh!" Hermione could hardly surpress her excitement. How had she never heard of that book before?

She cradled the book to her chest.

"I'll be done with it in no time, and I'll give it right back, sir."

"I would not expect any less from you." He turned and aimlessley brushed his fingers along the leaves of the pointsettia plant sitting on the windowsill. Seeing her Christmas gift, Hermione found the courage to ask:

"Sir, what did you mean this morning… about the second message being more difficult than the first?" Merlin, this man provoked her curiosity!

To her surprise, Snape did not resort to one of this rude, brusque answers.

"Letting go of something painful is difficult, but accepting something kind is even more trying."

Hermione waited for him to go on, but he said no more.

"Thanks--Thank you for the message, sir."

Hermione was bursting with pride for her "student."

"I'll see you at breakfast then?" she walked out of his office, and he closed the door behind her.

Upon arrival to her rooms Hermione immediately sat down on her bed and opened up _The Founding of Hogwarts_, then let out a small gasp. Inside the cover was a faded note, dated 6 January, 1970.

_Sev--_

_Happy Birthday! I thought you'd like this, judging from how dog-eared your copy of _Hogwarts, a History_ is._

_Love,_

_Lily_

_The Founding of Hogwarts _was dog-eared as well, obviously having been read numerous times. Hermione opened the first page, unaware that down in the dungeons a certain professor was imagining her doing just that.

* * *

A/N: So, I really could have ended the story here, maybe even at the end of the last chapter. But.... they're my favorite couple, so I had to add some romance, don't you think? Coming in the next chapters. :-D


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I'm loving the fact that this story has been up for 4 days and already has almost 2000 hits. Wow. I'll stop before I start getting too proud of myself. :)

Thanks for the reviews! Keep asking questions and giving concrit!

* * *

It was almost time for midterm exams, and Hermione was up to her neck in work, making sure to hand back all of her students' assignments so they could use them to study. Night after night she marked papers and planned reviews for the practical part of the exam. Bags formed under her eyes from lack of sleep, and she started noting her own wan face reflected in the countenances of her students.

The weekend before the exams Hermione, along with a bag of books and parchment, made their way to the Burrow, where an over-energetic Ron and an ever-cuddling Harry and Ginny only made it more difficult to concentrate.

Luckily, by the next weekend, all the exams were done and Hermione could have had the time of life at the Burrow.

But, surprising even herself, she didn't show up.

_Ron--_

_I've decided to stay at school this weekend--to get a head start on correcting the exams. Sorry! I'll see you next weekend._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

Instead of cuddled up with Ron on his couch, Sunday afternoon found Hermione in the company of none other than Professor Severus Snape, tormentor of first-years and spy extraordinaire. She had come upon him in the staff room, and decided to risk a friendly meeting… with tea.

So there they were, sipping their tea and grading tests, each immersed in his or her own work, yet still aware of the other.

Hermione had come to decide that her "project" had been turned in and received full results--she could see Snape was heading out of his depressed state, and she no longer felt the longing to care for him. For now, she would just enjoy his silent company.

She didn't know of the other ways in which her kindness and aid had affected her fellow professor.

* * *

"Brownie!" Hermione exclaimed as the elf apparated into her rooms one afternoon in late March. "How are you? Is everything alright?" she added, noting the elf's worried expression.

"Brownie have come to report on the activities of Master Snape to Miss Granger."

"What?" Hermione put down the book she had been reading, attentive.

"Master Snape are not eat or sleep often," said Brownie, "He are not able to work well, but he are nice to Brownie."

"But--Brownie, you're still looking after him?" asked Hermione.

"Yes, of course, would Miss Granger like that I stop?"

"Well, now, no. Thank you, Brownie."

The elf bowed, then disapparated.

True, Hermione hadn't been monitoring Snape as closely as before, but she had contined to see him at meals and between classes, and he had seemed perectly fine then. What had Brownie been going on about?

She promised, more to herself than to her distressed professor, that she would keep an eye on him. Just in case.

* * *

_Professor-_-

_Would you like to have tea with me this Sunday afternoon in my office? I would be interested in hearing your opinion on the article I lent you from _Magical Medicinals Quarterly.

_-H_

He arrived at three thirty in her rooms; Hermione looked up and smiled. He certainly appeared somewhat skinnier than before, but couldn't the cold weather do that to a person?

Hermione pulled up a chair for him in front of her desk and took a seat in the other chair behind it.

"Milk and sugar?"

"Milk, please." Hermione served the tea, then took out her latest copy of _Magical Medicinals Quarterly, _which boasted a cover photograph of none other than Luna Lovegood dissecting poisonous frogs in the Amazon rainforest.

"Do you believe the author's theory about the side-affects of Pepper-Up Potion?" Hermione asked. "In my opinion…"

They discussed the controversial article, Hermione inconspiculously examining her former professor as she sipped he tea.

Snape looked tired, but didn't they all? He seemed interested in what she had to say, and didn't refuse when she offered him some biscuits to eat with their tea. He appeared perfectly--almost perfectly--normal. Could Brownie have been simply exagerrating on the symptoms of professorial life?

Hermione was pleasantly surprised to find that when Professor Snape finally got up to go, he had been there for almost an hour and a half.

As the door clicked behind him, Hermione wondered if she had ever succeeded in engaging Ron--or Harry, for that matter--in an hour-long discussion.

* * *

A/N: Ha! I'm a rebel! Snape takes his tea with milk now. :)


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Again, thank you thank you thank you for all the lovely reviews!

* * *

Brownie showed up on the end of Hermione's bed two days later, at six thirty in the morning.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, groggy. Then, regaining her senses, "Is everything ok?"

"Yes, Miss Granger."

"So you've just come to visit?" Hermione was slightly annoyed, wanting only to go back to sleep.

"Brownie have an opinion, if Miss Granger will hear it."

"Why'd you have to come so early?" Hermione was perfectly able to hear an opinion at any time of the day, not just six thirty AM!

"Because Master Snape is awake and walking back and forth."

"Excuse me?" Hermione sat up in bed, mind reeling. What did that have to do with anything?

"If Miss Granger will please hear what Brownie wish to say, she will understand, please." Brownie made a curt bow.

"Go on then, Brownie." Hermione was now fully awake and alert.

"Brownie believe… Brownie believe that Master Snape like Miss Granger… Brownie think Master Snape like Miss Granger very much."

"What! Why?"

"Master Snape are keep all Miss Granger's letters, and he are always nervous before he go to meet Miss Granger. Brownie think that he do not sleep or eat because he are thinking about Miss Granger."

"Well, that's a shock, to put it simply," said Hermione, more to herself than to the house elf.

* * *

That Friday night Hermione was again at the Burrow, staying with Ginny while Ron was in London for work.

Ginny had just turned out the light when Hermione uncharacteristically sat bolt-upright in bed and said,

"You know the story of King Arthur?"

"What?"

"King Arthur, Merlin, Camelot, the Knights of the Round Table?"

"Yeah, of course. Why?"

"You know the story about Arthur and Lancelot, and how Guenevere loved both of them?"

"Yeah…."

"I'm Guenevere."

"What are you talking about?" Ginny paused. "You're in love with Harry?!"

"What made you think that?"

"Well, Arthur and Lancelot are best friends, and if Ron's one of them, I'd assume Harry would be the other, though I hope not."

"Oh, no! I love Harry like a brother. No, Ron's Arthur, and Lancelot…well, in my story, Arthur and Lancelot don't get along too well."

"Who's Lancelot, then?"

Hermione blushed. "I don't think I can tell you right now."

"C'mon, Hermione, I won't tell Harry or Ron!"

"I'm sorry, Gin, I can't."

There was a moment of silence, in which Ginny turned to face her friend.

"So why is Ron Arthur and the other one Lancelot?"

Hermione suddenly wished she had never brought up the topic, but if she could confide in anyone, it was Ginny. "Life with Ron is so…comfortable. I love him, he loves me, it's great. I like it. But then… Lancelot is so…intriguing. He's complicated, and very intelligent, and interesting, and…oh but I can't stop thinking about him!" She grabbed her pillow from behind her and buried her face in the soft cotton.

"Hermione I--"

"P--P--Poor Ron!" Hermione said as the tears started to fall.

Ginny cautiously laid a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Wouldn't it help to tell me who Lancelot is, so I can advise you better?"

"No!" Of that one thing, Hermione was certain. Snape was her secret, and she wouldn't let it get out for fear of hurting her relationships with him and with her friends.

She lifted her face from her pillow and sighed. "Gin, I'm tired, let's go to sleep."

"But Hermione…." Ginny looked at her friend and decided that if necessary, it could wait. Hermione Granger certainly could make one frustrated!

* * *

The next morning as Harry and Ginny sipped their tea in the garden, Ginny brought up the previous night.

"Harry?"

"Mhm?"

"You know when something's really on Hermione's mind, and she gives you a little hint, but then leaves you totally in the dark about it?"

"I don't think anyone knows better than I," he replied, chuckling. "Has she been doing that to you?"

"Last night she went all metaphorical on me and started comparing herself to Guenevere and Ron to King Arthur, then mentioned a Lancelot coming into the picture, but refused to tell me any more!"

"Oy…"

"And I'm afraid for her, and I'm afraid for Ron, and I'm afraid for whoever Lancelot is kind of, 'cause she said Lancelot and Ron don't really like each other..."

"Merlin, that certainly sounds like Hermione." Harry paused, "...except she usually doesn't have 'boy troubles,' does she?"

"Not for years! She's been happy with Ron, as far as I know." She sighed, and soon forgot about Hermione as Harry enveloped her in his arms and kissed her.

* * *

A/N: Brownie's speech comes partly from JKR, but also partly from the things my dad and I do to butcher the english language, i.e. mess up conjugations. :-D

ps. I'll be away this weekend so unless there's free wifi in the hotel, I won't be updating daily like I have been. Don't worry, I'll be back. :-)

pps. It's officially January 9th where I am.... HAPPY BIRTHDAY SNAPE!


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Just got back from a fantastic weekend and I'm already here in cyberspace!

Lily v. Hermione: Snape thought he loved Lily (so many years after her death) because, as Hermione said a couple chapters back, he needed some obsession to ground him while he was so mentally unstable. He now likes Hermione in a much healthier way.

I really appreciate the reviews! Thank you.

* * *

Spring break was anticipated with excitement by all except for one Severus Snape, who planned to spend the upcoming vacation in much the same way as he had spent his Christmas break.

Hermione, much to Ron's dismay, would not be going to the Burrow, but had instead decided to travel to Norway.

"Why?" he had asked.

"Just to get away from it all," she replied.

"Not to get away from me, I hope?" he asked, concerned.

"No, never you," she had replied, looking down.

* * *

_Professor--_

_Greetings from Norway. It's slightly chilly here, but the skies are clear and the mountains are beautiful. Of course you wouldn't care much to hear about the weather, would you?_

_Yesterday I visited the Ringsaker magical beast reservation--home to dragons, trolls and a few yeti. It was fascinating; I found the protective wards particularly interesting--they are very complicated, as each animal needs to be shielded from the others, as well as from muggle detection._

_The family with which I am staying, the Helseths, have taught me some traditional Norwegian folk magic using music and dancing. Do you know of any British folk magic involving song or dance? I seem to remember there being a club at Hogwarts specializing in Scottish magical music._

_I do hope you are enjoying your Spring holidays._

_-Hermione_

_Dear Ron--_

_Hello from the land of trolls! I've seen quite a few here, including a fully-grown mountain troll, like the one you saved me from in first year. I also saw some Norwegain ridgebacks._

_Norway is nice: the people are kind, the landscape is beautiful, and everyone insists on feeding me chocolate all the time! I'll bring some with me when I head back to Britain._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

_Professor Granger--_

_I have been to Norway only once, but like you, found it fascinating._

_I do not know much about folk magic, though I have done extensive research on the ancient Nordic druids. If you get the chance, I would recommend a visit to Trondheim, where you can visit the Museum of Ancient Runes and the headquarters of the Norwegian Druid Society. I believe I am correct in thinking you studied Ancient Runes during your time as a student at Hogwarts? If so, you will find the museum to be a very worthwhile visit._

_When I was in Oslo, I also enjoyed visiting the muggle Viking museum, as well as the wizarding Viking museum (entrance in the bar 3 Brødre on the main street in Oslo, through the bookshelf in the back), which is fascinating. It holds a few fully restored flying ships as well as carved megoliths and some fascinating ancient memories visitors are allowed to experience._

_Where are you staying currently?_

_I am glad you are enjoying Norway._

_--Severus Snape_

_Dear Hermione,_

_Norway sounds great! How's quidditch there? I've heard the Bergen Bjørner are good._

_Be careful around those trolls and around Norbert(a)'s cousins, I want you back intact. And I wouldn't mind some tasty Norwegian chocolate!_

_Love,_

_Ron_

Hermione put down Ron's letter, immersed in her thoughts. True, he had never been to Norway like Snape had, but didn't he have something more to talk about than quidditch and chocolate?

She sighed and rested her head on her hands.

"Brownie?" she whispered.

The elf appeared a few minutes later.

"Excuse me, beg pardon, Miss Granger, international apparition are hard for house elves, yes it are!"

"That's ok, Brownie."

"What would Miss Granger like for Brownie to do?"

Hermione hesitated. "I… I want your opinion, Brownie."

"Miss Granger want Brownie's opinion? Brownie are honored!" the elf smiled, showing small white teeth.

"Brownie, where does one draw the line between caring for and caring about someone?"

"Caring for and caring about?"

"Yes."

"Beg pardon, Miss Granger, but are Miss Granger talk about Master Snape?"

"Yes….yes."

"Brownie think that caring about is the why for care for. If one care about, one care for."

"Oh, Merlin." Hermione looked up. "Do you think I like Professor Snape?"

"Miss Granger like Master Snape, yes! Otherwise she would not care for him."

"Do I really like him?"

"That are for Miss Granger to decide, are it not?"

"Oh, I don't know!" Hermione's head found its way back into her hands.

"Brownie hope so," the elf whispered.

"You hope what?"

"Beg pardon, but Brownie hope Miss Granger love Master Snape. Master Snape are so lonely!"

Hermione smiled in spite of herself.

"You may be the cleverest elf of your age," she said, lifting her head from her hands.

Brownie gave a bow. "Would Miss Granger like some tea?"

"Yes. Tea would be perfect. Thank you, Brownie." Hermione closed her eyes and was soon asleep; when she woke up, Brownie was gone. She sipped her tea and prepared to write the two most difficult letters of her life.

* * *

A/N: I had so much fun writing this because I was just in Norway in November. Ringsaker is the region I stayed in. I didn't get to Trondheim, but I did go to Oslo. The 3 Brødre pub does exist, and it is awesome. Full of bookshelves and comfy red couches, and according to a friend of mine, must be The Leaky Cauldron of Norway (also, 3 brødre means 3 brothers... spooky, considering Deathly Hallows/Beedle the Bard). If you'd like to see pictures, go to www. 3brodre .com (no spaces) and click on "pub."

The Bergen Bjørner means the "Bergen Bears." And Norwegian chocolate is really good.

Not sure why Hermione is asking Snape, of all people, about folk magic, but I'm in a folk music and dance phase so I thought it would be cool to weave it into this story.

Tell me what you think!


	12. Chapter 12

_Dear Ron,_

_Let me start by saying that my mind and my heart are truly in turmoil at the moment. Let me say furthermore that none of this is your fault._

_Now that_ _I have your attention, here is what is one my mind and in my heart: I have gone and done a very stupid thing: I have stumbled onto the path of falling in love. I cannot tell you his name._

_I continue to love you, and I continue to consider you as one of my best friends. If my confession in this letter threatens our friendship I will be more than a little upset. My friendship with you and Harry is something I treasure most in life._

_But I cannot continue loving you romantically while my mind is so often thinking of someone else. I would feel like my relationship with you was a lie, and Ron, believe me, the least thing I want to do is hurt you._

_I promise to still bring you Norwegian chocolate when I come home,_

_Love,_

_Hermione_

"Bloody hell!" said Ron when he finished reading her letter. "Where did that come from!"

"Where did what come from?" asked Harry, curious. At his side, Ginny grimaced. She could guess what the letter said.

"Read this!" Ron shoved the letter into Harry's hands; Ginny read over his shoulder.

Half way through, Harry looked over at Ginny. "Is this what you were talking about the other day when you said Hermione was hiding something?"

"Yeah."

"Well, who is it then?! It has to be someone we know!" squealed Ron, unable to keep his emotions in check.

"I don't know. She wouldn't tell me anything, either!"

"And she says I'm still her best friend. Can't she at least tell me something!" Ron threw the letter on the floor and stood up. "I'm going to bed."

Hardly more than five minutes later, a sooty Hermione exited the fireplace in the living room of the Burrow.

"Hermione!" said Harry and Ginny.

"Hi," she replied, "Where's Ron?"

"He went to bed."

"Took it that well, then?"

"It's seven-thirty."

"I know." Hermione brushed some of the soot off her clothes, then took a seat next to Harry. "Merlin, I feel awful!"

"Hermione, I know you don't like disclosing personal information, but wouldn't it help to tell us at least who it is?" asked Ginny calmly.

"I'm sorry… I can't." Hermione rested her face on Harry's shoulder and let the tears fall.

A few thumps down the stairs announced Ron's arrival. "Ginny, do you have any of your sleeping potion? I need a--Hermione!"

"Hi, Ronald."

"What the bloody hell was that all about!?" he fumed, pointing at the letter.

Hermione looked at him through blotchy eyes. "Exactly what it said. I feel horrible, Ron." She motioned for him to sit next to her, and took his hand.

"Ron, I told you I just couldn't live a lie. It would be worse than this, for both of us."

"Hermione, I understand that part! So, yeah you went and fell head over heels for some bloke who's more fit than me! But why can't you tell me who it is?"

Harry and Ginny took this as their cue to finish washing the dishes, and let their friends talk alone.

"I'm afraid--I'm afraid you'll hate me for it," said Hermione between sniffles. "But I promise I won't keep it a secret forever--just until I get my thoughts figured out."

"I don't think you understand how hard this is for me, Hermione!"

"Maybe not, but it's hard for me, too." She wiped her tears from her cheeks in a futile attempt to look decent. "Here's your chocolate, by the way," she said, then giggled awkwardly. She gave Ron a quick kiss on the cheek, then took a deep breath and flooed back to Norway.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I was super excited to find 5 new reviews today! Yay! Thanks!

* * *

_Professor--_

_First, let me say that I have never written a letter of this genre before, and therefore ask for our forgiveness if it doesn't turn out to be a work of literary genius. Secondly, let me say that I have discussed the subject that follows with Ron._

_We have been "acquaintances" for eleven years. When you were my professor and I your student, I admit that you did intimidate me. Later, you impressed me with your work as a double agent (Yes, I am determined to praise you. No, you cannot do anything about it). When I came to Hogwarts this year as a teacher, I saw something in you that I didn't expect (and please, I do feel the need to admit this to you): vulnerability and misery. I saw immediately what the war had done to you, and tried to help you by being your friend. I wanted to help you, Professor, and as I said before, I did pity you. I admit this because I wish for you to understand me._

_Later I discovered that some of your sadness came from holding on to Lily. Again I tried to warm up to you, to give you someone else to talk to (even if I do talk too much sometimes; yes, you may admit it). I wanted to help--not force--you to forget about your impossible love, while healing your emotional wounds from the war. Did it work?_

_From what I see, you appear more content, less vulnerable. You appear to have let go of Lily, and, if only partially, accepted me as a friend. This is what I hoped and wished for when I set out to help you._

_I could end this letter here, as a coward, but I refuse to allow myself that comfort._

_I have never written a letter of this genre before because this is a sort of a love letter._

_I discovered, as I attempted to care for you, that I had begun to care about you. About who you were, who you are, and most likely, about who you will become. I am awed by you and humbled by you, but intimidated no more. When I saw the vulnerable, sad, Professor Snape I also sensed a Professor Snape who can love, and care, and find joy as well as sadness, comfort as well as pain. You intrigue me, and every moment I spend alone I wonder what it would be like if you were here._

_You may award my eloquence a grade of "troll," but, for once in my life, I will not mind._

_I await your reply._

_-Hermione_

_Ps. I return from Norway on Thursday. Until then, you may write me at the Trondheim University Institute of Ancient Runes._

_Professor Granger--_

_Having never received a letter of said genre before, I admit I do not believe myself qualified to evaluate your prose._

_That being said, I award the content of your letter an O._

"_Really?" you inquire. "Professor Snape is not known to bestow Os on rash Gryffindors."_

_Yes._

_I trust you understand what I mean. Being the cold-hearted person I am, I feel unable to truly express my sentiments._

_You write: "… every moment I spend alone I wonder what it would be like if you were here." Would you like to know?_

_As my eloquence is clearly lacking today, I will not write more, but I will invite you to open the door of your chambers at Trondheim once you finish reading this._

Hermione put down his letter, puzzled. Was that really a way to end a response to her letter? She sighed, wondering what on earth the professor was playing at. Nevertheless, she stretched, stood, and walked to the door.

Waiting on the threshold was none other than Professor Severus Snape, tormentor of first years and spy extraordinaire.

"Oh!" was all Hermione managed before her emotions betrayed her control and she rushed into his arms, happy to simply embrace and be embraced.

His breathing hitched, and she knew he was as nervous as she. Releasing herself from his embrace, she lead him into her rooms and closed the door behind her.

"Come," she said, "We have some things to talk about, don't you think?"

He offered a small smile. "I'm sorry about the letter. You know how I am about… emotion."

"Yes, of course," Hermione replied, "That's why I'm here."

"That's why you're here?"

"To find your emotions. I know they're in there." She sat down on the couch; he chose to sit in the armchair.

Hermione's brain seemed to be whirring a mile a minute. She wanted to tell him everything, yet she didn't know where to start.

"I don't pity you anymore," she offered, noting his grimace at the word "pity."

"You never had to," he retorted.

"I couldn't help it. I… you…" Hermione didn't know how to put her thoughts into words. She lapsed into awkward silence. He sat back, hands folded in his lap, pensive.

"Why did you care so much about me?" he asked.

"You looked… sad," Hermione supplied, "And I wanted to help."

"It annoyed me."

"I know."

"And now, after pitying me for half a year, you find yourself… enamored of me?" Snape struggled over the final words.

"Yes." Hermione took a deep breath and looked at the floor.

"You know I won't put up with any more pity in the future, don't you?" He asked, leaning his chin on his hand.

"I thought you didn't put up with it before." Hermione's eyes remained glued to the oriental rug under her feet.

Snape looked around the room before responding. "I have recently come to realize that any pity I received before was duly deserved."

"What?!" Hermione looked up at him, eyes wide.

"I've grown to realize that I was truly...not right in the head." He paused. "You know how difficult it is for me to say that, don't you?"

"Yes… I guess so." Hermione's eyes remained focussed intently on his face. "And… how are you now?"

"Fine," he semi-grunted.

"Just fine?"

"I was less than fine before I received your letter."

"So 'fine' is all I can expect from you?" Hermione stood up from her place on the couch and took a step towards him, face darkening. "What's wrong?"

To her surprise, he broke into a miniscule smile. "Hermione, who is the most sarcastic person you know?"

Taken back, Hermione automatically felt her brain switch to "exam mode" and contemplated her possible answers.

"He's in this room," Snape supplied.

Hermione shot him a look. "Oh. In that case…"

"Do you know the definition of sarcasm, Miss Granger? No going to the dictionary."

Hermione gave him a look that could be considered half-way between puzzled and glaring. "Sarcasm is when… is when you say one thing but mean something totally different."

"Eloquent, Miss Granger."

"That was sarcasm."

"Exactly. I'm starting to wonder why some call you 'the brightest witch of your age.'"

Hermione grunted, crossing her arms. "What does this have to do with anything?"

"I'm not fine, Hermione. I thought you'd hear the sarcasm. I'm more than fine. Your letter made me--dare I say it?" He took a breath, "Happy."

"Oh." Hermione looked up at him, and her face brightened. "In that case…"

She crossed the space between them in two steps and, taking his hand, pulled her former professor to his feet. Before he could say anything, she had both hands behind his neck and her lips tentatively pressing his. She felt a rush of warmth as his arms came around her back, halting, but reaching their destination all the same.

Hermione reluctantly pulled away, resting her arms on his shoulders.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"Thank you," he replied, then added, timidly, "I have never been kissed before."

Hermione couldn't hide her look of surprise. "Never?"

"I have never deserved it." Hermione didn't notice his slight smirk.

Hermione's features softened. "Oh, Professor…"

"No pity," he cut in, reminding her.

"Oh, blast, I was doing it again!" Hermione looked up at his face and let out a small laugh.

"Yes, you were."

"You know what I think?" Hermione asked. Snape raised an eyebrow in response.

"You deserve this." And she was kissing him again, and he was kissing her back, and to them, nothing felt more right.

* * *

A/N: So the sarcasm part is weird, but it kind of wrote itself and I decided to keep it in there. Shows that though Hermione has book knowledge, she sometimes lacks knowledge that you can't learn from a book. It also prepares her for some stupid sarcasm moments later on.

Also, I admit the Snape never having been kissed because he never deserved it is weird, too, but I kept it because I like the last line (also, he may be trying to provoke her into showing pity). As a death eater, he had probably engaged in rape but had never had a mutual romantic relationship. Gosh, I really made life hard for him, didn't I? Sorry, Severus!


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Ok, I couldn't help myself, I had to post the last three chapters.

I had the image of the first sentence of this scene stuck in my head for quite a while before writing it.

* * *

Hermione struggled slightly to keep up with Severus' long strides as they walked down the muddy sidewalk to Hogsmeade.

"Would you mind making a stop in Honeydukes?" she asked, thinking of Ron and Harry.

"Of course not." He stopped by the door to the sweetshop, then followed her inside, closing the door against the drizzle.

They stood side by side, a few centimeters apart, each unmovingly eyeing the shelves of sweets.

The past three weeks had taught Hermione about Severus' view on public displays of affection: it came down to _none._ He was more shy than she had thought him to be, for he hid his shyness with intimidation.

But behind his unreadable façade, Hermione knew there was an unending supply of sincerity. Sincerity was what he gave to her, and what she was not sure she had always received from Ron.

Hermione decided on some fizzing whizbees, made her purchase and exited the shop, followed by Severus.

"Hermione!" she spun around to find Harry and Ginny a few meters away.

"Harry! Ginny! What are you doing here?" Hermione gave her friends quick hugs after throwing an apologetic look at Severus, who waited at the entrance to Honeyduke's.

"I could ask the same of you," said Harry.

"Oh! I was just… I mean…"

"Good day, Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley," came Severus' cold voice from behind them. "Miss Granger, have you neglected to remember that you are supposed to be supervising students?" he stepped a few paces away.

Hermione stifled a laugh. "Yes sir, of course." She feigned searching for Hogwarts students.

"As much of a joykill as always," Harry muttered.

"Yeah," mumbled Hermione. _If only you knew…_

"Anyway, I was just saying--"

"You were?"

"--before we were so _rudely_ interrupted, Ginny and I are here to see George about using extendable ears in Auror work."

Hermione burst out laughing. "You really think that'll work?"

"Yeah, it's worth a try. All other forms of magical surveillance are monitored, usually."

"True." Hermione paused, focus suddenly drawn to the icy mud under her feet. "How's… how's Ron?" she asked.

"Besides thinking you're the most frustrating person on earth, fine," responded Harry.

"He still on about it?"

"Yes, Hermione." Ginny replied coldly. "And sometimes, so are we."

"I'm sorry." Hermione didn't know what else to say. She looked to Snape for reassurance, but he merely gave her the tiniest of shrugs and continued strolling.

"Whoever it is, he better be worth the wait," said Harry. "How can you even like him if you think we'll hate him so much?" He looked at Hermione, but she kept her eyes glued to the ground.

"You already do hate him, Harry."

"Well Voldemort's dead and Malfoy's already got a girlfriend, who else could it be?" Harry said, frustration in his voice.

Hermione looked up, worried. "Well, I'd best be off--supervision, you know?" she said, pretending to look around.

"Hermione--" said Ginny, but Hermione was already halfway to where Snape stood.

"Merlin, she's frustrating!" said Harry, kicking at the half-frozen ground.

* * *

A/N: Short, I know! Sorry!


	15. Chapter 15

"I'm living a double life," Hermione said abruptly that evening, breaking their comfortable silence. She was sitting sideways on his couch, her back leaning against his side as they read.

"What makes you say that?"

"I have my life with you, and I have my life with them, and I love all of you, and I hate keeping a secret from them but I think if I let my two lives mix they would explode into a big volatile mess…" she stopped herself, and took some breaths.

"You could just give them up."

"What?!" she swung her legs to the side and stared at him, incredulous, "How could you even--"

"Hermione."

"--they're my--"

"Hermione."

"Yes?"

"Sarcasm?"

"Oh.

Severus gave a quiet laugh. "And what if you told them?"

"Harry would ignore me and the Weasleys would disown me, in the figurative sense." Hermione looked down at her hands.

"You think they value your friendship that little?"

"Well, no, but…."

Severus searched for a different route. "What do they know of me so far?" he asked.

"They know that they know you, and they know that they hate you. Really good starting point, huh?"

He ignored her question, asking, "Did you give me a name?"

Caught unawares by his query, Hermione blushed. "I… Well, when I explained to Ginny I said I felt like Guenevere, and Ron was Arthur, so that made you Lancelot."

"Lancelot? I'm flattered."

"Goes with your dashing personality."

"Don't ever call me 'dashing.'"

"Wouldn't dream of it." She grinned.

"Good."

Her grin faded. "They really want to know who you are."

Severus hesitated, then said, "As much as I disapprove of your choice of friends, I do agree that it would be better for them to know. For your sake."

Hermione scowled at him, her heart only half in it, then resolutely stood up and said, "Meet me in my rooms in fifteen minutes."

"Pardon?"

"Meet me in my rooms. I'm going to fetch my friends so you can be 'reacquainted.'"

She rushed out his door and to the gates of Hogwarts, focusing on the Burrow as she Disapparated. With a small "pop" she found herself in front of the Weasley home, hoping desperately that her friends would be there, as her courage was quickly draining.

She found them in the living room, chatting. Ron was the first to notice her.

"Hermione! What are you--"

Grabbing Ron's and Ginny's wrists, she pulled them off the couch, saying quietly, "I want you to meet him," then looking down.

"_Him?" _asked Ginny.

"Finally," said Harry. Ron looked angry.

They arrived in her rooms ten minutes later, and Hermione motioned for her friends to sit. She was too nervous to stay in one spot, and contented herself with pacing.

"So…" started Ginny, the only one willing to speak, "Where is he?"

"He's coming," Hermione responded bluntly, and resumed her pacing. "No hexing," she added sternly.

Ron practically groaned and fell back onto Hermione's bed, only to shoot back to sitting at the sound of three hard raps on her door.

Fueled only by nerves, Hermione took several paces to the door and opened it wide. There in the doorway stood Severus Snape.

Amused, Snape took in the reactions of Hermione's friends. Ginny was widemouthed in astonishment, unmoving from her place on Hermione's bed. Harry lunged forward, as if to attack, then stopped a few feet from Snape. Dear Ron simply managed to sputter:

"What's HE doing here?"

Ginny shot a look at her brother, and spoke up next.

"You weren't supervising this morning in Hogsmeade, were you?" She gave Hermione a cold look.

"No." Hermione blushed. "Guys, I didn't think this would be easy, but you really wanted to know. You promised not to do anything rash…" she said, watching Harry closely as he rocked back and forth on his feet.

It was then that Harry seemed to find his voice. "Snape."

"Potter. What a pleasure…. to be reaquainted." Snape looked at Hermione's other two friends. "Now that you are done oggling me, you may get going."

Hermione opened her mouth to stop him, then thought the better of it. "You CAN stay here, you know," she said, giving Snape a quick glare, "But I do think it might be beneficial to all of us for you to mull this over by yourselves… for the sakes of all of our tempers."

"You dumped me… for him!?" Ron blurted out as she finished.

Hermione sighed. "Point proven."

Ginny tugged Ron up from the bed, and, without a further word, led him and Harry out of the room.

Hermione fell back onto her bed as Severus pushed the door closed and sat next to her. She took his hand.

"That didn't go so well."

"What did you expect? For Potter to hug me and for Weasley to say it was his wish all along? Be rational, Hermione."

"Yeah, I guess so." She sat up and stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. "They'll come to accept it sometime."

"They will."

"Severus…"

"Yes?"

"Do you want to stay here tonight?"

"Yes."

"Ok."

That night, Hermione fell asleep wrapped in his arms, and knew that somehow, things would work out for the better.

* * *

A/N: Just the epilogue left! Though I do think a little more resolution could be necessary... Tell me what you think.


	16. Epilogue

A/N: One last thank you for the wonderful reviews!

Disclaimer: I wrote this using JKR's characters, settings, and ideas. The first sentence is Ann Brashares. I only claim two house elves (Caillou and Brownie), a few new professors and students, and the Bergen Bjørner.

Here's a short epilogue, set about three years after chapter 15. My version of "and they lived happily ever after."

ps. I originally wanted to write two endings to this story: one SSHG and one HGRW. Then I had no inspiration to write HGRW, though it's possible I'll write it sometime in the future. For now, enjoy the lovely pair that is SSHG!

* * *

November 28th, 2004

They were enjoying their nightly ritual--reading and cuddling, though not necessarily in that order--when the greeting card on the mantlepiece burst into flame and announced:

"It's time."

Hermione shoved her bookmark into the text she had been reading and grabbed Severus' hand, pulling him off the couch.

"Let's go!" They practically ran to the gates of Hogwarts, and, never relinquishing their grips on eachothers' hands, apparated directly into the lobby of Saint Mungo's Hostpital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. After a quick glance at the faded green signs at the end of the hall, they turned down a corridor to the right, climbed two staircases, and turned right again.

They arrived, out of breath, at room 304, and Hermione gave two sharp raps on the door. It opened by itself, and the couple rushed into the room, finding it occupied by all the Weasleys as well as Harry Potter. They were clustered around a pristine hospital bed in which Ginny Potter lay, holding a newborn. Ginny's eyes lit up when she saw Hermione.

"You're here!"

"Yes. How could we not be?" Hermione grinned, giving Harry a quick hug in congratulations. Leaning over the bed to gently touch the baby's hand, Hermione asked, "Will you introduce us?"

"Hermione, this is Albus. Albus, this is Hermione Granger." She grinned.

"Pleasure to meet you," Hermione said, giggling, while she let the baby take hold of her pinky with his tiny fingers. Giving Albus's hand one last pat, she looked around for Severus, finding him engaged in conversation with Harry.

"...do I have your permission?" Harry was asking.

"Yes."

"Then come with me. I'd like you to meet someone." Harry led Severus to the spot Hermione had vacated.

"Albus Severus Potter, I'd like you to meet one of your namesakes and the bravest man I know. Severus Snape, meet my son." Harry looked up into his former enemy's face and grinned. Severus squeezed Hermione's hand and, with a hint of a smile, met Harry's gaze.

* * *

A/N: Yay! That's all folks!

A quick note on Snape's character: I realize my Snape is somewhat OOC, but once this story started going in that direction, I didn't want to pull it back. I thought that Snape's failing mental health could in part be due to his lack of activity after the war--he had so much stress, so much responsibility, and then both of the men he looked to for orders were killed. He suddenly has no spy work and needs to control his own life, which could be difficult for someone whose life had been controlled by someone else before them. Cue bad mental health. He also went through a lot when he was working as a spy. Basically, depressed Snape starting writing himself, so I kept him that way.

8/25/09: I'm still here, and still appreciate reviews! (hint, hint)


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